


about you

by ronsparkyspeirs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6951220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronsparkyspeirs/pseuds/ronsparkyspeirs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's a man now, a real boy with choices and feelings, some days it's overwhelming and others he wishes he could share with the man on the bridge, no. No, that wasn't his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	about you

He wakes up gasping, chest heaving and soaked in sweat. It's the third time this week and sometimes he wishes he could just stop remembering every single thing he ever did, but Bucky guesses it's his penance; it's his own pound of flesh and he should be so lucky as to finally be out of Hydra’s hands. He's a man now, a real boy with choices and feelings, some days it's overwhelming and others he wishes he could share with the man on the bridge, no. No, that wasn't his name. 

 

He rises from the mattress and reaches over his head to pull off the sweat-soaked shirt off his back in one fluid motion. Bucky balls it up and throws into a pile of dirty clothes by the corner of his room, it lands with a soft sound and he walks to the little table he’d been writing on earlier; a spiral notebook laid out by the edge of the table. He flips the notepad open and takes out the photograph of the man, he feels an old sensation working its way through him, it makes him a little hot and he feels a blush spread through his cheeks,  _ arousal _ . 

 

A brief flash of a memory shutters through his head and he remembers this man, but smaller. Pale skin, eyelashes long and dark against his cheeks, pink lips, soft like a woman's. Bucky grunts and palms his hardening cock through his jeans; he remembers blue eyes and whisper soft moans. 

 

He pops open the button on his jeans and the sound of the zipper being pulled down is loud in the quiet room, he grips his dick with his flesh hand and hisses when skin meets skin, it's been so, so, so long since he's had this kind of pleasure. He looks at the picture of the man and his cock grows harder, feels like silk steel in his hand. It feels like the first time. 

 

Bucky pushes his jeans further down but the material gets stuck halfway down his thighs, he frowns because this never used to be a problem. He knows what he looks like now, a body forged of war and murder, there's nothing about him that's not intentional. A wide chest, sturdy enough to receive blows from guns and heavy booted feet, muscled arms made for hitting and holding heavy artillery, thick thighs made for knocking down doors and running for miles and miles; he wonders if that man would still like him like this. Bucky was always bigger but he’d never been built like this. 

 

He rolls down his jeans, using his feet to kick them away from his body. And once he’s fully naked he glances at the picture of the man again, a phantom touch against his hipbone, the soft press of plush lips against his neck, Bucky grips the base if his cock in his hand and lets out a choked off groan,  _ he's remembering _ . 

 

He thinks of pushing the skinny blond against a lumpy mattress, the other boy falling backwards with a laugh and a bright smile on his face. 

 

_ “Watch it!” He tells Bucky, sporting a mischievous grin.  _

 

_ “Yeah, yeah, poor little fella,” he responds, rolling his eyes.  _

 

The thumb of his flesh hand circles the head of his dick and it feels as close to heaven as he’ll ever get. 

 

He thinks about the man now, how he’d grown taller, his shoulders had broadened and yet his hips had stayed the same. He thinks about pulling him out of the water and how heavier he’d been than the time he had to carry him home from a drunken night out, once, a very long time ago in Brooklyn. He can still feel the weight of him in his arms, he slides his hand up and down his shaft, reveling in the sensation. Bucky pulls his hand away and brings it up to his mouth, he gives his hand one long lick from bottom to top and spits a gob of saliva onto his palm, when he touches himself again, he lets out a grunt. He squeezes his cock and thinks about being in between the blond’s legs, his pretty dick stuffed into Bucky’s mouth, the other man squirming and moaning in between the soft cotton sheets, the afternoon sun coming in through the window hitting his skin just right, making him look otherworldly. 

 

_ “Buck, Buck-please, please, I can’t take anymore,” he begs, his voice gone hoarse with desire.  _

 

_ Bucky sucks hard and then lets his cock out of his mouth with an audible pop, “What’s that punk?” And then he proceeds to swallows him whole in one motion, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he starts making the most delicious sounding noises Bucky’s ever heard, a cross between a desperate whine to make Bucky stop and a wanton moan, begging him to never take his mouth away from his body.  _

 

Bucky groans loudly and surprises himself, it’s been decades since he’s had any memories like these. He walks to his little bed, dick in hand and lays down, spreads his thighs and digs his heels into the mattress to give him more leverage. He starts tugging in earnest, sliding his big hand up and down his slick cock, wet with spit and precome. 

 

He wonders what the other man would think of him now, of this new body; how it would feel, the two of them together, his thick cock and the man’s big palm around him. Bucky moans as he thumbs at the head of his penis, he remembers, he remembers his name. The man in the museum, his big blue eyes looking up through his eyelashes as he blows Bucky in a Brooklyn back alley, away from prying eyes, far away from judging glances. 

 

_ Stevie… _

 

_ Steve.  _

 

Bucky comes with a muffled shout, come spurting all over his hand and groin, hot and thick. He lays on his bed, breathing heavily and sweat cooling on his neck, and he remembers. Steve Rogers with his honest eyes and his mouth full of conviction, he’d been so good and brave, his beautiful boy. Tears pool in the corners of his eyes as he wipes himself off because he's not sure Steve would want him anymore, not with everything's he’s done. 

  
So he dresses again, puts on a red henley shirt and makes a mental note to pass by the market the next morning. He places a pair of black sneakers by his bed and falls asleep, ready for the day that they come for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never had a dick so I'm not sure how masturbating with a penis feels like???? Also I like to think this happened the day before Steve found Bucky's apartment of sadness and that's why when Bucky finds him there he just stands quietly, watching Steve because he can't really believe he's there.


End file.
